


Wicked Games

by EIectricScarIet



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, BDSM, Bottom Charles, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Charles really likes monogamy, Dom Erik, Dom/sub, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is a Sweetheart, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masochist Erik, Shameless Smut, Smut, So much smut, Sub Charles, Surprisingly adorable and romantic despite the setting, Top Erik
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2018-08-12 00:01:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7912624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EIectricScarIet/pseuds/EIectricScarIet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Xavier never wanted to go into the business of prostitution. Fresh out of college with no jobs around and no money to move to where opportunities are available, he is forced to take up an occupation he doesn't enjoy in the slightest. Yet when he gets his first male client with a strange request, he finds love in a place he never knew possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: Charles has only been working as a sex worker for 2 weeks when this story begins. just to give a little context!

When Charles was young, he didn't picture his life being quite like this. He didn't imagine having to sneak out while his sister was either at school or sleeping to sell his body. In his future, he used to see something wonderful. He had always wanted to do something like teach and bring knowledge to the younger folk, or just do anything that helped the less fortunate. Instead, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place with no way out except for prostitution.

Needless to say, he hated his job.

Charles Xavier always cherished the idea of monogamy like it was his religion. He firmly believed in sleeping with your significant other, and only your significant other. Yet every night, as he pulled on the clothing that his boss Emma deemed suitable (usually things like tight-fitting singlets or no shirt at all fell into that category; even leather sometimes) and crept out of the house, he always felt like an anchor was pulling down on his heart. He hated his job with a burning passion, and he would genuinely prefer getting shot in the foot to going back there.

He still found himself returning, though, after much consideration every night.

First, there was the anger; the blatant refusal. "No," he would always tell himself. "I'm quitting tonight. I'll call Emma and tell her I'm not coming back."

Second, there was the desperation. "Wait," he would always ask himself. "Where else can I get money? There's no other bloody jobs around here."

Third, there was the despair. "I can't," he would always admit to himself. "I can't go back but I can't quit. There's no way out of this."

Fourth, there was the surrender. "Fine," he would always tell himself. "I'll go back. Just until we have enough to move somewhere with better opportunities."

And then he spent the rest of the night worrying, as he pretended to enjoy himself. He never did; ever.

When both of your parents are dead, your stepfather is withholding your rightful inheritance and you have to look after a 15 year old girl by yourself with unemployment rendering you broke and useless, such is the way of life.

**-**

"Alright, Raven, have a good night. Remember to text me the time you'll be coming home. And don't sneak out!"

As Charles waved his sister goodbye, watching her get into her best friend's car, he felt a simple sense of relief. At least that night, he wouldn't have to worry about the possibility of Raven catching him and asking where he was going. Explaining the concept of prostitution and why he was doing it to a teenage girl would've been awkward, to say the least.

He pushed the front door closed and turned away with a sigh. He had another few hours until he had to go to work yet, so he decided on settling in on the couch to read for a little while. Considering that they didn't own a television, the possibility of watching a movie was nonexistent.

Charles was barely on his way to the bookshelf when his phone vibrated in his pocket. As he walked down the hallway, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket to see a text from Emma. His eyes skimmed the preview of the text from the lock screen before he unlocked his phone and read it through fully.

_**8:42pm: Congrats sugar, you've just got yourself your first male client.** _

His step faltered, and he came stumbling to a standstill. It was no secret within the workers at Emma's brothel, the Hellfire Club, that Charles was gay. Unfortunately, the majority of the people that attended the club were straight since it wasn't exclusively a gay club (although it wasn't prohibited), so Charles was always stuck servicing females rather than males.

The news didn't bring him an astounding amount of joy, considering he still had to go in and fake the enjoyment of sex with someone he didn't even know, but it was a simple relief that this time he might actually not find it incredibly repulsive. He typed a quick message back to her.

_8:43pm: Splendid. What time did he book me?_

Almost immediately, a reply came back.

**_8:43pm: As soon as you come in, at 11. So look sharp, it'd be in your best interests to impress him._ **

Charles didn't know whether to take that as a threat or not. Thankfully, shielded by a screen, he could act nonchalant and respond with a cheerful 'Will do'. He locked his phone and slid it back into his pocket, his mind filling with questions. What did he look like? Was he old or young? Would he mistreat him? Suddenly waiting until 11 seemed a lot harder than it did before, thanks to his growing curiosities.

Thankfully, his book occupied him well until 10:30 came. That night, he chose to wear a pair of terribly tight leggings that actually used to belong to Emma (which somehow fitted him) and some old black singlet. Considering it was freezing cold outside in the winter's night, he figured he'd be forgiven were he to wear a sweater over top until he arrived. So he slipped into a light blue hoodie before leaving the house.

Another downside of being practically broke was having to walk to work. The streets of London were increasingly unsafe, especially at almost 11pm on a Friday night. Trying in vain to keep his nerves under wraps, he dug his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and kept his head down as he walked. Luckily the club wasn't on a main road, so there weren't many people milling around.

He arrived at the Hellfire Club just before 10:50, and he entered through the back door which led straight to the staff area, where his friend and coworker Moira was in front of the mirror fixing her appearance. Upon his arrival, she turned and smiled at him. "Hey, Charles."

"Evening." He noted the smudged lipstick and angry red mark on her neck. "Rough night?" He murmured, his eyebrows furrowing with concern as he put his phone into his locker and pulling off his hoodie.

"Nothing that hurts," she assured him with a grimace. "Doesn't mean I enjoyed it, but who does?"

Charles simply gave a murmur in response. "Where's Emma?"

"Front desk talking to Sean. Apparently he sucks even at being a receptionist." She gave a chuckle as she turned back to the mirror, grabbing a makeup wipe to erase the lipstick off her face. "You could go find her, or wait for her to come back in here."

"I'll wait," he decided, closing his locker and making his way to the other seat in the room which resided on the wall opposite the mirror. "How's Angel been holding up?"

"She's doing okay. Still a bit shaken up, but getting there." Moira's tone was grave. Just the other day, Angel had a run in with a dangerous client and it almost went south before Emma had intervened. It didn't help that Angel's father had been a bit of a lunatic, so she was still a bit touchy about any violent advances. "Misty's been with her all evening, so she'll hold up."

"That's good." Charles responded. Angel was a sweet girl; he would've hated for any harm to come to her, or any of his coworkers. Most of them were just like him. Stuck without any other options. Some did enjoy their job, which of course there was nothing wrong with that. But mostly in the Hellfire Club, people didn't enjoy their occupation.

His rumination was interrupted by someone abruptly entering through the door that led to the rest of the club. Charles straightened up, his eyes snapping to the door. It was Emma, in all her white-lingerie, golden-haired glory. "Charles, there you are." She exclaimed, closing the door behind her. "Are you excited?"

"Of course." He told her, lying through his teeth. She knew that he was spitting falsities, and Charles knew it. Yet she kept her mouth shut, her eyes turning to Moira.

"You have another client at 11:15, sugar. Better get ready for that." Emma reminded her. Moira's only response was a nod, as her lips were occupied with the makeup wipe. Satisfied, Emma turned back to Charles. "Your client, Leo," she used his stage name in a teasing tone, yet Charles didn't feel any sort of amusement from it, "is here. And you are a lucky young man, he is gorgeous."

"Is he?" Suddenly the night didn't seem so terrible anymore as Charles felt a leap of joy. He had been picturing some seedy man, yet apparently his client was a stunner.

Emma gave a smirk. "Like you wouldn't believe. German, too. And you know what they say about Germans," she winked and gave a silvery laugh before turning and opening the door. "Come on, hun. Can't leave your client hanging."

Charles stood, feeling an unfamiliar sense of something between anxiety and anticipation. Apprehension, he decided as he exited the room after Emma and closed the door behind him. Immediately he was greeted with the dimmed lights of a reddish hue that he knew so well and some poor girl that he didn't recognise at that distance on the pole at the other end of the club. Emma stood out in the darkness like the sun between two rain clouds, with her pale skin and flimsy white dress which barely covered her enough to be called a dress. It was easy to follow her through the club, so as he attempted to motivate himself, he kept his eyes on her back. She turned into the hall which led to the reception and also the subsequent hall where the private rooms were located. She slowed her step to wait for him, and Charles gratefully jogged up to meet her.

"Alright, you're in room 4. Put your game face on, sugar." She murmured to him before leading him into the reception. Standing beside the desk, with his back turned, was a significantly taller and more muscular man than Charles. Simply by looking at him from the back, Charles felt his heart shift in his chest. "Mr Lehnsherr," Emma purred, causing the man to turn. "This is Leo, your man for the night." She stopped, pushing Charles forward gently. Charles hesitantly raised his eyes to meet the so-called Mr Lehnsherr's, and for some unknown reason all of the air left his lungs in a single moment. Under the dimmed lights, his seemingly blue or grey (it was difficult to tell) eyes were staring straight back at him, taking up and down Charles's body. For some reason, though, he didn't mind so much. His hair looked so neat and, well, perfect. He wanted to tangle his fingers in this man's light brown hair and see how much he could mess it up during their hour together.

"Thank you, Miss Frost." Although he didn't doubt Emma's word, the man didn't sound overly German. Charles found himself hurriedly dismissing that thought as the man approached him, and he brought his eyes back up to meet the steel grey (he could tell now, they were only just on the grey side) orbs burning into his own. "Lead the way."

"Yes, sir." He laced his voice with a seductive purr, hoping it was convincing. Don't get him wrong, Charles was very attracted to this man. But it still felt wrong to be giving his body to someone he didn't love. Although he was definitely open to this very same man becoming that someone he loved. Or not, what the hell was he even thinking? He barely knew this man.

They arrived at room 4, which Charles promptly opened. He knew these rooms well, and they were certainly not associated with good memories. Those pristine white sheets were stained with the recollections of spending the night with women that he couldn't love, and the black carpet and red walls were the concrete floor and jail bars which barred him from having something more than this. Yet he kept his mouth shut and ushered the man into the room, following him in and closing the door behind him.

"What's your name?" His voice was heaven in the form of sound. As Charles kicked off his shoes and locked the door, his smile faltered for a moment.

"Leo." He told Mr Lehnsherr again, turning around and giving him a smile. He was about to open his mouth again to ask his client for his own name when he was interrupted.

"No, your real name. You and I both know Leo isn't real."

Charles stopped in his tracks, blankly watching Mr Lehnsherr as he sat on the end of the bed and gazed up into Charles's eyes. Somehow, he found himself wanting to tell this man his real name. So before he could stop himself, he did.

"Charles. Charles Xavier." He blurted, clapping a hand over his mouth in horror immediately after. _Damn it. God fucking damn it._ It was against the rules to do that.

Mr Lehnsherr apparently figured as much, and with a chuckle he said, "don't worry, Charles. It can be our little secret." He gestured for Charles to sit beside him on the bed. Without having to force his feet to move, Charles found himself hurrying to sit beside him. "I'm Erik."

"Is that what you want me to call you?" Charles murmured. "Not... Not 'daddy', or 'sir', or-"

"Good god, no." Erik's gave a dismissing shake of the head before his intense gaze focused back on Charles's. The lights were dimmed in this room too, which cast dark shadows onto Erik's face. It almost seemed like the room was lit with candles. "I'd have you scream my name rather than some foolish pet name."

 _Oh. How forward._ Charles found himself speechless once more, an image of exactly what Erik has said bursting to mind. Flustered, Charles fended that thought away with a slight shake of his head. "Of course." He cleared his throat. "Anything else?"

"Yes." Erik's gaze locked firmly onto Charles's, a certain solemnity coming to his tone. "I want you to talk to me like you love me."

For a moment, Charles was shocked. _That's an... odd request._ He didn't mind it, but he was still stunned. "Like I love you?"

"Exactly. Call me old-fashioned, but..." Erik trailed off, as if he didn't know how to explain it.

"I understand. I'm the same," Charles agreed softly with a gentle chuckle.

Erik simply murmured, raising his eyes again and taking Charles's hand in his own. "Enough talking." He ordered, standing and pushing Charles back onto the covers of the bed. Charles was helpless to do anything but simply give away his power as Erk climbed on top of him, supporting himself by planting his hands either side of Charles's shoulders. Suddenly Erik's lips were on top of his own, and he could feel the unabashed lust simply from his kiss. Charles felt himself melting into the rough, passionate kiss, letting Erik ravage his lips and rob him of his breath. He'd never been kissed like that before; it well and truly trumped anything he'd experienced before.

Letting his instincts take over, Charles let his hands glide up Erik's torso to the zipper of his black turtleneck (which, for the record, looked simply stunning on him). He pulled the zipper down, exposing the expanse of muscle that Charles was all too happy to touch. He wanted to explore Erik's body, as it was the first time he'd ever been with a man so well built. As a matter of fact, his last sexual encounter with a man was 7 years earlier when he'd first lost his virginity. He was, for some unidentifiable reason, glad that Erik was the second man.

Erik broke away from the kiss to pull off the turtleneck, fully exposing his torso. Charles found his eyes glued to the rippling muscle waiting there for his own personal indulgence. He wasn't focused on it for long though, as Erik's hands gripped onto Charles's thin black singlet top and almost ripped it off him. Charles didn't really care if it had ripped or not, and he watched intently as Erik tossed it to some unknown location in the room.

Instead of returning to his lips, Erik began nipping and sucking at Charles's neck. He let a soft sigh escape his lips, gripping onto his back. "Erik..."

Charles felt one of Erik's hands trail down his chest towards his crotch, leaving fire in its wake. The deft fingers brushed over the growing bulge, sending a jolt of pleasure running through his body. His back arched as he whimpered and his body pressed into Erik's as his finger hooked into the hem of the leggings. He no longer cared about how feminine they were, or how stupid they made him look. He just wanted them off, and Erik inside him.

Erik seemed to pick up on his restlessness and as he yanked the leggings off, he pulled away from Charles's neck. He tossed the leggings away as well as Charles's briefs before standing up fully, leaving Charles almost naked in the white sheets. Charles propped himself up on one elbow, locking his eyes on Erik. He returned his lustful gaze as he slipped out of his shoes and undid his belt, pushing his jeans and boxers down and kicking them off. Charles's eyes lingered on Erik's thick shaft for a moment before Erik climbed onto the bed and began advancing again. He let Erik grip him and ravage his lips roughly again, closing his eyes and succumbing to his touch. Charles locked his hands together behind Erik's neck, smashing his lips into his own even more so than they already were.

The kiss was full of passion, but short-lived. Erik pulled away, and the loss of contact hit Charles like a runaway freight train. His eyes flew open and he gazed up at Erik, who seemed to be looking for something. His eyes locked onto the bedside table, and Charles realised what he was getting at. Erik reached over and grabbed the items Charles knew would be waiting there; a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. Charles took the box from Erik and promptly ripped it open, pulling one silver packet out and practically tossing the box aside. The rest of the contents probably spilled everywhere, but Charles couldn't bring himself to care. He was about to rip the packet open when one of Erik's hands planted itself onto his chest, pushing him back down onto the mattress. Charles found his legs getting pushed apart by Erik's knee, and suddenly he felt what he assumed to be fingers brushing his entrance. The sensation was cold and wet, so Charles also allowed himself to assume those fingers were heavily lubed. Without verbal warning, one of Erik's long fingers pushed inside Charles. His breath caught in his throat and he let out a soft whimper as Erik's finger pushed into him. Another finger was added, and Erik began stretching him from the inside. Charles bit back a moan of both pleasure and pain. His eyes squeezed shut and he arched into Erik's touch. He felt lips connect with his hip bone, and teeth pulled at his skin gently as a third finger was pushed into him. With a curl of his fingers, Erik expertly struck Charles's prostate and sent a wave of liquid fire through him. His eyes flew open with a gasp, which quickly collapsed into a moan. Erik's teeth released Charles's skin as his eyes connected with his own pleading gaze. Erik's unoccupied hand plucked the foil packet up from beside Charles (somewhere along the road he'd dropped it) and he ripped it open between his forefinger and teeth. Something about the use of his teeth was very appealing to Charles.

Suddenly the sensation of Erik's fingers inside him was gone, and he was rolling the condom onto his length. Aligning his cock with Charles's entrance, his lips ghosted back up Charles's torso and eventually met with his lips again, capturing them in a searing kiss. Slowly yet steadily, Erik's hips pushed forward into him and Charles couldn't stop the breathy moan from escaping him, proving to be only a whimper into Erik's lips.

Within moments, Erik's pace began to speed up from slow and almost careful to fast and rough. With every thrust, Charles felt his body react. Every move he made was a wave of pleasure spreading straight from his lower abdomen to the rest of his body. He rocked with Erik's abrupt pace, unable to stop himself from crying out and mewling like a bitch in heat.

The pace didn't slow as Erik's hips rolled into Charles's. Erik's lips pulled away and he leaned down to ghost his lips over Charles's neck, causing him to tremble and whimper between his moaning. Charles felt himself melt into Erik's grip.

It was a mind blowing few minutes before Erik finally pushed his full length into him with rough force, and Charles hadn't even been aware he'd screamed out in pleasure but now he was begging Erik to do whatever he had done again in a tumble of words and moans as his vision clouded with stars. Erik gripped at Charles's hips and angled himself so that every thrust struck that one spot that made him cry out so deliciously. If it was amazing before, now Charles was convinced he's found heaven. He'd never gained this kind of ecstasy from his previous clients. Now here he was, pinned beneath this man he didn't even know and begging for more without a single care that they barely knew each other.

Charles's brain was short circuiting, depriving him of the coherence he so direly needed to heed to Erik's request. His fingers ripping into the sheet, he felt the edge looming dangerously near. A tumble of moans, curses and something that sounded suspiciously like 'Erik' (in hindsight, Charles couldn't even remember) fell from his lips as he felt his climax impend closer than ever.

Erik's thrusts were growing sloppier by the moment, and Charles knew he was close to being spent. His hands moved to grip at Erik's back, his nails digging into the flesh. Erik let out a breathy groan, gritting his teeth. Charles couldn't hold it back any longer. He felt the tight coil in his lower abdomen spring free as his orgasm ripped through him. He didn't even have to force Erik's name to come from his mouth; instead he found himself moaning it like his own personal mantra. He barely registered that he felt his seed spill onto his own chest, but he didn't really care.

Burying his face into Charles's neck, Erik finished directly after Charles. His cry of pleasure was muffled by Charles's neck, and he vaguely realised he'd torn Erik's skin as he ran his fingers over his back.

They stayed like that for a good few moments after Erik pulled out, with his face buried intimately in Charles's neck and Charles holding Erik close with hands that weren't so gentle a minute earlier. Yet they unfortunately had to let go and clean up so Charles could get onto his next client.

Erik was the first to break out of the trance, pulling away from Charles and reaching down to peel the condom off. He turned to toss it in the nearby bin, his chest heaving as he drank in the air like it was his life support. Charles's body suddenly acted on its own and before he knew it, his hand was gripping at Erik's chin and the other was yanking him closer by pulling down on his back. Their lips collided again, yet this time with more tenderness, Charles noticed. Erik, surprised by the sudden kiss, didn't respond for a few moments but eventually melded into the kiss like it was second nature. And for those few moments that they held this affectionate kiss, Charles felt almost... happy.

Erik was the one to break away, again. Wordlessly, he shrugged out of Charles's grip and stood, examining the bedside table for a moment before grabbing the box of tissues off it and passing it to Charles after grabbing out a tissue for himself. He turned away as Charles took the tissue box from him.

Charles propped himself up as he tore a few tissues out of the box and watched Erik's back. "Will I be seeing you again, Mr Lehnsherr?" He blurted before he could stop himself. Erik's process of dressing himself slowed, and Charles wondered if he'd said something wrong.

The silence dragged on for a few dreaded moments before Erik finally answered. "Same time, Sunday night. And don't call me that."

"Should I keep calling you Erik then?" Charles asked, wiping his seed from his chest idly whilst gazing up at Erik's red-streaked back.

"Please." Erik answered, finishing up and turning back around. "I've already paid, ask that receptionist for it."

 _Oh. That's right._ Charles felt a pang of distress. He'd somehow forgotten it was all a farce, and this was his job. "Right. Thank you."

"No, thank _you._ " Without another word, Erik exited the room, leaving Charles naked and alone on the disorderly sheets.

He couldn't help but wonder about Erik's strange request. He wondered if he'd done well to heed it, yet he still wondered...

Why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what did you expect? a first chapter without smut?  
> ha, what even is story development anyway?
> 
> please leave a review! I'd love to hear your opinion, no matter how brutal it is.


	2. Chapter 2

Saturday morning came with the sound of Raven unlocking the front door with her spare key and practically stampeding her way inside. With a yell goodbye to her friend whom she'd stayed with the night before, she threw the front door close with a slam.

The slam reverberated through the small house, waking Charles with a start. He'd only gotten home at 4:30 that morning, and even then it took him an eternity and a half to get to sleep. He was grateful Emma always drove him home on her way back to her place after closing time, as the likelihood of him getting either assaulted, kidnapped or worse whilst walking home was very high. That didn't mean he got to sleep any easier, though. It was early morning when his worries plagued him most, to the point of clammy hands and an elevated heartbeat. It was nothing, though; he was sure of it.

With a self-piteous groan and a jolt, he rolled over and forced his groggy eyes open to stare at the digital clock. 10:21am, the harsh green characters read. He blinked in a futile effort to clear his vision and rolled back over.

Meanwhile, he could hear Raven closing the door to her room. She would hopefully stay there for another hour or two so Charles could get some more rest. He snuggled back into his duvet, the clutches of sleep taking him quickly as he closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

He woke again not long after, but he felt slightly more refreshed. The clock read 11:56 this time, and he figured he could survive throughout the day with a cup of coffee and an early night.

He was thankful Emma had been so flexible concerning his schedule. It was rather complicated, as he and Emma had to craft his weekend work hours around which day Raven went to her friend's house. She often went once every weekend to stay there with Irene, Charles recalled Raven telling him her name was, but when she didn't, Charles would have to sneak out and show up at around 1 or 2am when he was sure Raven was sleeping. Had Emma not taken such a shine to him, she wouldn't have been so lenient. She understood how crucial it was that Raven didn't find out, and that she kept believing he worked at Jean's cafe.

It was a rather smart set-up. Jean, one of Charles's close friends from university, owned a cafe not far from where Charles and Raven lived. Charles came up with the clever front of telling Raven that he worked there during her school hours, and Jean even agreed to cover for him if Raven ever happened by and asked for or about him.

"Charles!" A sharp yell from the kitchen brought Charles out of his thoughts and into the present. He propped himself up in bed, rubbing his eyes tiredly before calling, "yes?"

"Get your ass up, it's midday."

He gave a soft chuckle at the irritable tone in his adopted sister's voice. "Language, Raven." It wasn't so much a scolding as it was an amused remark. As much as Charles wished she'd have a clean vocabulary, he knew that with exposure to the high school environment and of course him (as he wasn't exactly pure himself), she never would. So he didn't bother trying to restrain it.

"You're worse than I am, and I'm the teenager!" She retorted, ignoring his comment. "Hurry up, lazybones!"

He pulled himself out of bed, grabbing his dressing gown as he exited his room and started down the hall. "I'm not the older sibling anymore, am I?" He sighed in mock wistfulness as he entered the kitchen. There she was, struggling to find something in one of the cabinets. "What are you doing?" He asked upon seeing her on top of the bench, rifling through one of the overhead cupboards.

"Looking for the sugar. Where the hell did you put it?" She asked without turning to look at him.

He peered into the mug that was sitting on the bench, which had what looked like a few teaspoons of instant coffee in it. "You don't drink coffee," he pointed out. "And it's in the cabinet on your right."

"Dammit, I checked there..." She grumbled, closing the cupboard she had been searching thoroughly and opened the other one. "And no, I don't. But you do, and you're obviously tired out of your brains."

"How thoughtful of you to make me a coffee. Thank you." He sat down in one of the nearby bar stools and wrapped his dressing gown around him tighter. "So how was... Irene, is it?"

"Mhm." She climbed down from the counter top with the sugar jar in hand and placed it beside the mug.

"Ah, yes. How was Irene's house?"

"Good. Again." Raven hummed contentedly as she spooned two teaspoons of sugar into the cup. "We finally got some study done this time."

Charles let out a soft chuckle. "You think it's difficult now, wait unt-"

"Yeah, wait until uni. Gotcha." She laughed and turned to grab the kettle. "I know, it only gets worse from here. That's not exactly any sort of consolation."

"That's right," Charles nodded. "It's tough now, but it only gets tougher. Luckily you have me on your side." With a wink and a laugh he crossed his legs and leaned on the counter.

"Yeah, Mr Straight-A's-In-Everything. I'm lucky to have your expertise." Raven laughed with him as she poured a reasonable amount of hot water into the mug. "Really though. I don't know what I'd do without you. Fail, probably."

"That's what big brothers are for." Charles felt a gentle smile spread across his face. "Come here." He opened his arms and Raven practically flew into them, her arms wrapping around him tight and squeezing the air out of him. He didn't mind the casual asphyxiation though; he knew how much he meant to Raven.

Many times he'd sat with her while she cried, before and after they'd moved away from New York. If it weren't for him, she would still be on the streets having to hunt and steal to survive. Not only did she feel overwhelmingly grateful, she felt guilty. She always told him that she could never repay everything he'd done for her, even when she was much younger, and she felt terrible about it.

He could never really find the right words to tell her that he didn't need any sort of compensation. Definitely not after she'd been there for him through _that_ time.

"Do you think they've found the will yet?" She murmured into his shirt, bringing him out of his doleful musings.

"I don't know. I hope they're actually looking," he answered gravely. He knew that Kurt had the money to persuade people to not do their job, especially since he'd taken it upon himself to say that Sharon had left him all of her money and belongings instead of Charles and Raven, like common sense dictated. "One day, Raven." He promised. "One day we'll get it back."

"Then we can get a better house, and you a better job," she said. "Instead of working at Jean's."

"Yes," his voice suddenly caught in his throat. "I think I'd like a better job." _More than you know, dear Raven. More than you know._

**- ******

After drinking his coffee and changing into something more presentable, Charles decided he needed some time at the library. Raven elected to stay at home, so he left her there to her own devices.

Thankfully it wasn't a long walk to the local library. Back in New York, he'd frequented the library there religiously. Now he that he was in London, it wasn't the same but he still visited even after he'd graduated university a year earlier. Knowledge was irresistible to him; he was always ravenous for more. Not to mention reading was one of his favourite pastimes, and had been for his entire life. Libraries felt like home and the books like family when his own home and family did not.

Within a few minutes he was on the steps of the library, and he felt a renewing sense of excitement rush through him. Raven often called him a nerd, and she would've done so again if she was there to see his smile then as he entered the building.

The receptionist, a woman by the name of Storm that he knew well, greeted him as he walked in. With a smile and wave he returned the greeting and turned his gaze to the towering rows of books. Surprisingly for London, the library remained old-fashioned rather than following the rest of the city's suit of innovating. That's what he loved most about this place. It had an antique charm to it that he seldom found anywhere else. Not to mention it was massive, and full to the brim with books.

He wandered aimlessly throughout the aisles for a few minutes as his eyes scanned the spines of the books. He wistfully remembered a time when he was a young boy, and his father would share all of his books on science with him. They would read together, even if he didn't understand much of the jargon his father was using. That was one of the main reasons why he took a four year university course in genetics. His father lived on inside him through science. Charles wanted to keep that part of both himself and his father alive, yet he was reminded again that he'd failed miserably at doing so.

Tearing himself out of his own destructive mind, he brought himself back to the present and focused on the books he had been staring blankly at. He seemed to be standing somewhere in the fiction section after much aimless walking, and he figured it was time for him to actually concentrate and find something he wanted to read.

He walked into the subsequent fiction aisle, keeping his gaze locked on the bookshelves and nothing else. His eyes scanned the spines, reading each title as he went past. He stopped in front of the J section as he noticed something that reminded him again of his childhood.

Without thinking, he reached out and abruptly grabbed the book from its place and stared at the cover, nonplussed. Jane Eyre. One of his mother's favourites. Before Charles's father died and his mother succumbed to alcohol as an antidepressant, she used to read it to him every night. He only vaguely remembered it, but gazing upon the cover of the book brought such a bittersweet sense of nostalgia that he couldn't ignore.

He couldn't decide whether he wanted to take out the book and suffer through the memories or leave it here and forget it existed. Remembering such a wonderful time in his life was both a blessing and a curse. He opted for leaving it there, and in a fumble of fingers he pushed the book back into its place and whirled around to hurry out of the aisle.

Yet as he turned to leave, he collided with someone standing in the entrance to the aisle. Thankfully he only bumped into the man, so it wasn't physically painful (only for Charles's mind, as he suffered embarrassment quite heavily). Bowing his head and muttering a sheepish apology, he sidestepped and attempted to rush even faster out of the area.

But before he could get far, he felt a large yet gentle hand close on his shoulder. A wave of fear surged through him. He couldn't have possibly vexed him, could've he? Trying desperately to ignore the panic, he let the hand turn him around and he rose his eyes to meet those of the man. Those grey eyes that were so familiar.

"Charles?"

Charles's eyes widened and his mouth dropped as he felt his fear melt and be replaced with shock. "Erik," he exclaimed, his shoulders slackening. "Umm. Hi."

"You're in a hurry," Erik enquired without actually asking as his hand dropped back to his side. "Anything the matter?"

"No, no, just..." Charles struggled to find an answer. It wasn't like he could tell a man that he met and fucked for his job the night before that he was struggling with his sadness. "It's nothing." He tore his gaze away from Erik's mesmerising steel grey eyes.

Charles felt like Erik wanted to ask, but he still kept his mouth shut anyway. "Alright." He said simply. "Well, unless you're busy, I was wondering if you wanted to come get coffee with me."

Charles's gaze snapped back up to Erik's intense eyes, which were burning into his own. He opened his mouth to answer, yet he didn't know what to say. Was this a date Erik was asking him on? Where did they even stand with each other, given that they literally met each other the night beforehand and had sex that Erik paid him for, and asked him to act like it was real to boot. Yet something, some sort of urge to get closer to this fiercely desirable man overwhelmed his rationality. So he simply gave a smile and nodded.

"Okay. Sounds good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops this is a filler chapter.
> 
> I should have chapter 3 out within the next two or three days though, fingers crossed.
> 
> and in response to all you lovely individuals who left a comment: THANK YOU SO MUCH! you're all such sweethearts ❤️  
> Charles is 24 years old in this, to answer your question about his age.  
> and as a public announcement: this story will cover dark topics as well as the fluff and smutty goodness we all came here for.
> 
> I have a twitter btw. same username as I have on this, so check it out if you wanna see lots of shitposting about our favourite gays
> 
> until next time!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very sick at the time of writing this, so apologies in advance for both the shittiness and the delay!

The moment Erik saw Charles standing in the library aisle, staring down at that book with an almost uneasy edge to his sky blue eyes, Erik felt an unfamiliar tug on his heart that he hadn't felt in years. Before he could stop his feet from moving, he was standing next to him. And before he could stop himself from asking, they were sitting in a cafe at a table for two.

Silence had been hanging over the table for the past minute as they awkwardly looked at their menus. Erik simply stared blankly at it, his mind whirling. He came to this cafe often, as it was right by the station he was posted at, and he didn't need to look at the menu to choose what he wanted. Instead he used it as an excuse not to get caught in those baby blue eyes again and fall into the trap. 

The silence was vastly uncomfortable, and he decided to break it. "So," he cleared his throat and put the menu aside, saying the first thing that came to mind. "Not working today?" Immediately he winced. It wasn't particularly hard to guess that he didn't like his job too much, so the question may have come across as being offensive. 

Charles didn't seem to mind, though. "No," he answered, closing his own menu and putting it down. With a gentle smile he met Erik's gaze. "My younger sister is at home today and she doesn't know about my job. So I can't really..."

"Go in." Erik finished. "I see."

"Her name is Raven. She's in 10th grade." Charles continued, his eyes lighting up endearingly as he spoke about her. Usually if someone he barely knew was giving him details about their life, he wouldn't care to hear it. But something was different this time. It was almost like he wanted to care, and somehow he did. 

"Do you take care of her?" He didn't hear any mentions of other family. 

"Yes." Something changed in Charles's tone, his answer coming abruptly. His smile dropped faintly and the gleam in his eyes wilted for a moment. 

_Let's not go there._ Erik made the dictation that it wasn't something Charles wanted to talk about, so instead he stood. "I'm going to go order. What do you want?"

"Wait, let me come with you. To help pay." Charles offered, but Erik shook his head. 

"No, I asked you here. It's only fair I pay." Not to mention, it wasn't hard to predict that Charles wasn't exactly well off with money. After all, who would go into the sex worker business by choice? Unless they enjoyed it of course, which he wished that Charles enjoyed their encounter. Wishful thinking though. Erik knew better than that, and he knew better than to hope for something real with anyone.

He couldn't think about that, though. Not when he was trying to enjoy his day off work. With a defeated sigh, Charles sat back and said, "alright. I'll have a flat white, please."

"Anything to eat?" When Charles gave a faint shake of his head and a failure of a reassuring smile, Erik sighed. "Have you eaten today?" Another unconvincing nod. "Liar. I'm getting you something, so you'd better tell me what you want or it'll be something random."

Charles gave another defeated sigh and massaged the bridge of his nose before looking up at him and answering. "You decide, I'm not picky. Thank you, Erik." This time, a genuine smile came to his face. 

"Mmm." He simply gave a mutter in response as he walked past him towards the counter. _For someone who is meant to act for a living, he's pretty godawful at it._ Erik mused as he waited in line. _He did a perfectly good job last night, though._

There was no possibility in Erik's mind of it not being an act. Hoping was in vain, so he didn't let himself. 

**-**

As Erik got up to order, Charles felt his innermost thoughts begin to flood his mind. It wasn't professional to be out for coffee with a client. Especially not with a client he wanted to be out with. It was disconcerting, how unusually comfortable he felt around Erik. Yet at the same time, it made him overwhelmingly uncomfortable to be around him. It was like he enjoyed his company, yet simultaneously it made him squirm. 

It wasn't like he was looking forward to Sunday night. He just... wasn't exactly averse to it, that was all. That was all it was, nothing more. Charles deducted it was because Erik was his only male client, and his only recurring one at that. Surely there was nothing more to it.

Suddenly Erik walked back past him and sat down in his seat, tearing Charles back to the present with a jolt. He shifted in his seat, almost scared that somehow Erik knew what he was thinking about. 

"What?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing, you just startled me. I was thinking, plus you're so quiet." Charles reassured him with a soft chuckle. His gaze flicked downwards as he readjusted his grey scarf, and when his eyes rose again they were met with the intense stare of Erik's grey eyes into his own. A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered what those eyes looked like the night before. 

"And what were you thinking about?" Erik murmured, his heavenly voice sending more shivers down Charles's back. 

Perhaps he could lie and say he'd been thinking about Raven. Given Erik had called him out without batting an eye on his previous lie, he figured it wouldn't be a good look to lie again. "Work." He gave a soft sigh of defeat as he admitted it. 

"Oh." Erik answered curtly. "Is that... good or bad?"

"Usually it would be bad." Charles said, shifting awkwardly and sitting back up. "Not now though." Usually he'd be worrying about sleeping with more women, or Raven finding out. But the prospect of seeing Erik again wasn't all that terrible. 

"I see." Erik replied somewhat awkwardly. "Does it make you uncomfortable to talk about your job?" 

"Depends on the person. If I was talking to someone like Raven, most definitely. If I was talking to a colleague, it wouldn't be uncomfortable at all." Charles replied, clasping his hands and resting his chin on top of them as he held Erik's gaze evenly. 

"And because it's me you're talking to?"

For a few moments, the air between them was dead silent. Charles didn't really know. Talking to Erik in itself felt natural, even if it was about his terrible job. It should've made him uncomfortable, and he knew that. But it didn't. 

"I don't know. It doesn't feel awkward. Perhaps because you're a client, and it's natural to talk about your job with your clientele." Charles wondered aloud, trying to find a viable reason for it. 

"On that note, I'd like to talk about arranging further meetings." Erik told him. "If that's alright with you."

"Of course, of course. Hang on." Charles pulled out his phone and unlocked it, tapping the screen a few times to exit the messaging app which had been open and opening the calendar instead before looking back up. "Tomorrow night is still on, yes?"

Erik gave a nod. "Next week, which days are you free?"

Charles took a quick look at the calendar. "No one has booked yet, unless you count tomorrow and Monday. For the rest of the week though, my schedule is clear for now. So-"

"Do you dislike your job?" Erik abruptly interrupted. Suddenly everything fell silent. Charles slowly locked his phone and placed it on the table, raising his gaze to meet Erik's as he felt his mental floodgates burst open. 

"Yes." He answered bluntly. "By God, I hate it. I'm... not really interested in women, and you're my first male client. So naturally I don't enjoy sleeping with women. And I don't like sleeping with multiple people at once either. I wasn't raised to act like this, I should be in a classroom teaching like I've always wanted to and instead I'm stuck at the bloody Hellfire Club having to..." His common sense finally kicked in and voice trailed off as he realised how irrational this whole tirade was. He took a deep breath before recomposing himself. "I'm sorry, this is... unprofessional."

"You're not working right now, are you?" Erik pointed out. "You and I are two people right now. Not client and worker."

"Yes, I suppose you're right, but..." Charles let out a mirthless chuckle. "I shouldn't be pouring my issues with my job onto you. It's not fair on you. I'm sorry."

"It's no problem." Erik looked up as the waitress gently interrupted, placing their cups and what seemed to be a blueberry muffin down on the table before taking the number holder and leaving. "Perhaps we should discuss this at a later date."

"No, it's fine." As much as Charles wanted to just leave the topic alone, he needed to do his job. "We can book now." 

"No," Erik said simply, taking a sip of his coffee before pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Here." He unlocked it and passed it over to Charles. He was powerless to do anything except simply take it from him. "Put your number in."

"Well, alright. I suppose that would work." Charles went to the contacts and promptly added his number to it. He passed Erik's phone back to him and picked up his coffee. He knew it probably wasn't healthy to have more than one within such a short space of time, but he needed the energy to be able to properly function. "So," he said after taking a gulp of the caffeinated beverage, attempting at non-awkward conversation (and failing). "What brought you to the library this morning?"

"Can't a man enjoy a good book?" Erik answered with a soft chuckle.

"Of course you can, I just figured you'd be working or something."

Erik took a sip of his coffee before placing the cup back down. "No, today's my day off."

"Where do you work?" Charles found that the conversation was thankfully feeling a little smoother. He rested his cheek on his knuckles as he grabbed a fork and began picking away at the muffin.

"Metropolitan Police. I'm the detective chief superintendent." Erik said. Charles's eyes widened as he stopped picking at the muffin.

"My god. Wow," he let out a soft chuckle. "That's awfully prestigious. And you have a day off?"

"I always get weekends off. I'm always on call anyway, in case I'm needed." He explained after another sip of his coffee.

"And do you enjoy it?"

The next question was tentative, almost gently prodding at Erik. It was a few moments before he answered.

"Not really."

"Why?" Charles asked. "If you don't mind my asking."

"Dealing with cases like homicide remind me of how terrible people are." He said curtly, his tone brusque. "Of course, catching the killers is always rewarding but I still don't like dealing with that sort of thing."

"That's more than fair," Charles responded. "Although you're helping people by getting murderers off the streets. Isn't that something to be proud of?"

"I've never felt like I should be proud of anything I do. It's my responsibility to do my job."

"Don't give me that. You should be proud of yourself." Charles gave Erik a reassuring smile, which the man didn't return. "You're the..."

"Detective chief superintendent."

"Yes, that. God, that's a mouthful." He said with a soft chuckle. "You're the detective chief superintendent of the division that gets exposed to the most danger, if I'm not mistaken."

Erik didn't respond, so Charles continued.

"Honestly. Your job is so important to many people. Allow yourself to take pride in it." Charles finished off his coffee before piping up again. "Anyway, onto something else. What-"

"You have such a way with words, Charles." Erik suddenly said, finally bringing his gaze to meet Charles's. "You'd make a good writer."

"Well... thank you." Charles smiled, continuing to nibble at the muffin. "I did want to be a writer for a little while, back when I was young, but now I think I'd like to teach."

"Why not both?" Erik suggested. "Surely you could take up both easily."

"Well-" Charles's voice cut off as he considered the possibility. Another wide smile spread across his face. "Yes, I think I'd quite like that."

How much he wished he could take that route in life. He wished he could pull himself and his sister out of the hole they were stuck in, and get themselves a better life. He had to keep reminding himself that if he just kept at it until he had enough money to move away, he'd be able to. 

"One day." Erik echoed Charles's thoughts, but for some reason it sounded more promising coming from him. "You'll get there."

"I hope so." Charles found himself hoping again. It was a wondrous feeling, after being lacklustre for so long. "I can just imagine it. I can get Raven into a better school, we can have a nice house and a television... perhaps a car as well."

"You don't own a television or car?" Erik asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

Charles shook his head as he took a small bite of the muffin. "No. We can't afford them." He let out a wry chuckle. "When my parents were alive, I had it all. A mansion with rooms that I still haven't fully explored to this day, and everything I ever hoped of having. Now I'm stuck in the situation I am. It's sad, really."

"What happened?" Erik asked.

Charles gave a dismissing shrug. "Just a minor misunderstanding with my stepfather. Apparently my mother's will went missing after her death so he assumed all rights over her wealth and possessions."

"That's illegal," Erik pointed out.

"Yes. I know. Not like I can do anything about it, considering he's back in New York and he's probably bought my mother's lawyer's silence and also bought the silence of the people employed to look into it."

Erik gave a simple murmur, staring down at the table for a moment before raising his eyes to meet Charles's again. "What's his name?"

"Kurt."

"Last name?"

Charles hesitated for a moment. "Marko."

"Alright." Erik gave a nod before tipping his head back to down the remainders of his coffee. As his eyes met with Charles's again, steel grey orbs meeting baby blue, a faint smile came to his face. For a moment, Charles was taken aback. He'd seen Erik smile a few times within the short while they'd spent together, but never like that. Never with such warmth, which Charles could barely believe this quite blatant 'strong-and-silent' type man managed to express with such a faint smile. Just as Erik opened his mouth to say something, a brusque and irksome buzzing noise filled the silence between them with its aggravating buzz. With an irritated sigh, Erik dug into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a phone from the early 2000s. Erik pressed a button on its side and slipped it back into his pocket. "Seems I've been called in," he told Charles with a grimace. "I'll be in touch." 

With that he stood and turned to leave without so much as a goodbye. Charles understood that with a job of that nature, saying farewell wouldn't be a drawn-out affair. Especially not when you're... well, when you're like he is. Yet as he watched Erik walk away, he felt like he had more to say to him. So he found himself pushing the chair back. "Wait, Erik."

Those two words stopped Erik in his tracks, his hand hovering over the door handle. He cast a look back over his shoulder, his gaze meeting with Charles's. For a split second, Charles felt his confidence falter. Yet his feet pushed himself forward, and he somewhat self-consciously ran his fingers through his hair as he approached. 

"Thank you. For taking me here, and paying, and spending time with me." Charles blurted, the words spilling out before he could stop himself. "Really, it was... it was quite nice."

"It's no problem." While his words were somewhat dismissing, the faint smile that made Charles's heart stop not a few moments earlier came back to Erik's handsome face. "We should do it again."

"Oh, I can't. I can't really afford to do things like this all that often, so-" Charles was cut off abruptly by Erik's hand in the air. 

"No. I'll pay."

"Not every time! I'd feel terrible!" Charles exclaimed, his eyes widening. "Perhaps we could just..." He fumbled for a better suggestion. "Go somewhere different that doesn't require money."

"You mean a date?" Erik asked in what sounded like a somewhat teasing tone, raising an eyebrow as a smirk came to his face.

"What, and this wasn't a date?" He pointed out with a gentle laugh. "We'll plan at a later date. As for now, I shouldn't keep you from leaving considering the gravity of your line of work."

"Alright. See you tomorrow." With that, Erik pushed the door open and left the cafe.

Charles had almost forgotten that Erik had booked for the next day. He'd almost forgotten he even worked there. For that short time they spent together, Charles almost felt like he was leading an ordinary life. It was... well, it was wonderful. With a smile on his face, Charles adjusted his scarf and pushed the door open, hurrying out onto the street. If he got to see Erik again, suddenly going to work the next day didn't seem so terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh you're all so sweet, thank you for your kind comments!
> 
> also lowkey police officer!Erik = yeS PLEASE  
> expect to see him in more fics
> 
> please leave a review!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all! thank you for all of the lovely comments thus far ❤️  
> to answer some questions the majority of you have been asking about the possible consequences of Erik being involved with prostitution, here's a little context: in London, where the story is based (was originally New York but I decided to change it), prostitution is not illegal. brothels, however, are. but through some loopholes and, ah, compensation, Emma has made it possible for the Hellfire Club to be classified as an adult club. of course, there's a bit more to it than that but I'll let the story explain.

"So, where have _you_ been?"

Upon entering the house, Raven immediately pounced on Charles before he'd even properly walked through the door. "What do you mean, 'where have you been'? I've been at the library," he told her, pushing the door closed behind him and giving a small chuckle.

"You've been out for almost two hours. Usually you take out a book and come home." She wiggled her eyebrows, a smirk coming to her face. "Did you have a date?"

"What in the name of- no, Raven, of course I didn't." He spluttered, causing her to roll her eyes. 

"Yeah, no. Not buying it. You're a terrible liar." Funny that, Erik had told him the exact same thing earlier. She continued to pester him, prodding at his shoulder and practically treading on his heels as he walked to the kitchen. "You did have a date, didn't you? Who with? Who's the lucky guy?"

"No one," he responded, sitting at the bench. "Don't you, uh... have homework to do? Or literally anything other than badgering me?"

"Nope. Finished it all at Irene's," she leant on the countertop and stared right into his eyes. "Come on, Charles. What am I gonna do with the information? Not like I know any of your friends aside from Jean and everyone at the cafe." 

With a sigh, Charles cracked and gave into her demanding. "Alright, his name is Erik. And for your information, it was not a date. Just us going out for coffee, that's all."

"Sounds like a date to me. Where'd you meet him?"

"Through work," he answered. It technically wasn't a lie. "I... served him. And then he talked to me more and we sort of became friends, I suppose." Again, he wasn't lying. 

"Alright. What does he look like?"

"For God's sake, Raven. I've given you enough information to sate your curiosity for one day." He rolled his eyes and stood, making his way out of the kitchen. "Let your imagination do the rest until I decide to tell you more. I'm going for a nap."

With a huff, she called, "whatever!" And Charles continued onto his room with a smirk, confident he'd won.

As soon as he flopped down onto his bed, he felt his exhaustion which he'd been trying desperately to ignore flood over him like a tidal wave. And before he knew it, he was dozing off.

**-**

He woke to the sun beginning to set, as the warm pinkish light streamed through the open curtains. He rolled over, fumbling for his phone before realising he'd fallen asleep without taking it out of his pocket. Blindly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the device, turning it on and immediately wincing at the harsh light. There was a missed text from Erik, from about ten minutes earlier.

_**5:47pm: Good evening.** _

Groggily, he tapped a text in reply.

_5:58pm: How was work?_

Within moments, the read receipt came up and Charles watched the almost hypnotic bubble that came up, indicating that Erik was typing.

_**5:58pm: Nothing drastic happened, just a false alarm.** _

Just as Charles was about to send his reply, Erik started typing again. So he waited.

_**5:59pm: Now I have an important matter to discuss with you.** _

_5:59pm: And that is...?_

_**6:00pm: You can't tell anyone at the club that I'm a police officer.** _

_6:00pm: Why not?_

_**6:00pm: I'd get banned, most likely. Brothels are illegal, and they wouldn't like me being there.** _

_6:01pm: Yes, I'm aware. The Hellfire Club isn't a brothel, it's an adult club._

_**6:01pm: Which serves as a place of operation for prostitutes. You're lucky that Miss Frost's little policy is that only one worker gets assigned to each client, otherwise it would be a brothel.** _

_6:02pm: You're very educated on how it works there._

_**6:02pm: Yes, well I've done my research. Miss Frost has connections in the police force which means the higher-ups turn a blind eye to the fact that it's very close to being illegal.** _

_6:03pm: Are you undercover or something?_

**_6:03pm: No._ **

_6:03pm: You wouldn't tell me if you were, though._

_**6:03pm: That's right.** _

_**6:03pm: You're just going to have to trust me.** _

_6:04pm: Very well then._

_**6:04pm: So, here's the deal. You don't tell anyone I'm a police officer, and I keep my mouth shut at my own workplace.** _

_6:05pm: Won't you get in trouble if anyone finds out?_

**_6:05pm: A slap on the wrist from people not much higher-ranked than me._ **

_6:05pm: Alright then... Deal._

_**6:06pm: Good. I'm glad we've come to an agreement.** _

_**6:06pm: It'd be a shame for our meetings to end so soon.** _

_6:07pm: Yes, I suppose it would be._

**_6:07pm: You can drop the pretense._ **

_6:07pm: Pardon?_

**_6:07pm: I know you don't like it, Charles. Not many sex workers do._ **

_6:08pm: Well, it's not like I hate it. You're my first male client._

_**6:08pm: Doesn't mean you enjoyed it.** _

_6:08pm: But what if I did?_

The read receipt sat there for a while before Erik started typing.

_**6:09pm: That's good for you, then.** _

_6:10pm: Is it good for you, too?_

_**6:10pm: I suppose so.** _

_**6:10pm: You're very unique, Charles.** _

_6:11pm: In a good way, or in a bad way?_

_**6:11pm: Good, but probably bad for me.** _

_6:11pm: Why bad for you?_

_**6:11pm: I like unique people.** _

_6:12pm: Then how is that bad?_

_**6:12pm: I'll form attachments. That generally isn't good news.** _

_6:12pm: How so?_

_**6:12pm: It's never ended well in the past.** _

For a moment, Charles didn't know what to respond with. All he could wonder was who hurt Erik so badly that he was afraid to grow sentimental?

_6:13pm: I'm sorry._

_**6:13pm: What on earth for?** _

_6:14pm: It sounds like someone hurt you._

_**6:15pm: Well. That's no concern of yours.** _

_6:15pm: Can it be?_

_**6:15pm: It doesn't need to be.** _

_6:15pm: But what if it is?_

_**6:16pm: Then okay.** _

Charles felt a frown come to his face. Suddenly things seemed less about work and more about Erik as a person, and he didn't mind that one bit. 

_6:16pm: Can I call you after dinner?_

_**6:16pm: Why?** _

_6:17pm: I like talking to you. Plus, it sounds like you need someone who cares at the moment._

_**6:17pm: I appreciate the concern.** _

_**6:17pm: It's not necessary though.** _

_6:17pm: You're not alone, Erik._

_6:18pm: Not anymore._

It was a while before an answer came.

_**6:19pm: Thank you, Charles.** _

_6:19pm: No need to thank me. Anyway, I'd better get off my arse and go get dinner._

_**6:19pm: Good god, you really are British.** _

_6:20pm: Pardon?_

_**6:20pm: "Arse"** _

_6:20pm: Sorry, didn't I drink enough tea for it to be obvious?_

_**6:20pm: Not really, no.** _

_6:21pm: Anyway, I really must go. Call you soon?_

_**6:21pm: Sure.**_

With a smile, Charles locked his phone, placed it on the bedside table and clambered out of bed. He walked down the hallway and into the kitchen, where Raven was sitting at the bench with a book in her hand. "Look who finally came back to life."

"Evening," he greeted with a smile. 

"What's got you so chirpy?" She asked. "Don't you usually want to stab someone whenever you wake up?"

"No, what gives you that idea?"

In response, Raven's face contorted into what looked like a death glare mixed with a tired frown. Charles laughed, turning towards the pantry and opening it to gaze upon the wondrously copious amount of food they owned. He scanned the contents of the pantry, giving a soft huff. "Rice again tonight, then."

"Damn. I was hoping we actually had stuff other than cereal and rice. Why didn't you pick any up when you went out?"

"It slipped my mind. I'll get some tomorrow." He promised, pulling out the half full bag of rice and pouring the contents into a pot before filling it with the right amount of water. "Which vegetables do we want with it, peas or..." He opened the fridge to see nothing other than milk, tomato sauce and an empty container. "Peas."

"Hmm. I think... Yeah, I'm in the mood for some peas tonight." Raven feigned contemplation before deciding and giving a nod. With a frown, Charles opened the freezer to pull out the bag of peas.

"Oh, fine. I was hankering for peas, but I guess peas will have to do." He sighed in mock discontent before breaking into somewhat wry laughter. At least they could still make jokes at their own expense. While he laughed though, he couldn't ignore the bitter sting that burned in his stomach, reminding him that he knew something more than this. Something he'd never get back, ever again.

**-**

After washing up with Raven's help, he retreated back to his room where is phone (and therefore Erik) was waiting for him. He practically collapsed onto his bed and plucked it off the bedside table. He unlocked it and typed a text to Erik.

_7:09pm: Hello hello. I'm back._

It was a few moments before the read receipt came up below his message.

_**7:10pm: Alright. Call away then.** _

Charles felt a swell of something akin to excitement as he tapped on Erik's name at the top of the screen and pressed call when the contact ID came up. He held it up to his ear and listened to it ring three times before it stopped.

There was silence for a moment before Erik's voice came through. He sounded a tad awkward. "Evening," he said, his velvety voice coming through the speaker. 

"Hi," Charles answered, a smile inadvertently coming to his face. "How are you?"

"Tired," Erik gave a weary reply, in which his exhaustion was evident when the usual facade over his entire being cracked for a moment. "Yourself?"

"I'm actually rather good, I've been sleeping all afternoon since I got home from the cafe." Charles said in response, but that wasn't what he considered important. "I'm not keeping you up, am I? It's perfectly fine if you want to go to sleep, you need your rest to-"

"Charles." Erik's tired voice sounded almost amused. "You aren't keeping me up. I wouldn't be able to sleep if I tried."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

There was silence again as Charles sighed softly, his eyes shutting for a moment before he opened them again. "What are you doing right now?" He questioned, his question a failed attempt at proper conversation.

"Nothing. I'm considering what I should have for dinner, any ideas?"

"Well... What do you have?" Charles asked, shifting into a more comfortable position.

"Uh..." There was the muffled sound of a refrigerator opening and closing again. "Vegetables." Then the pantry. "Lots of other stuff."

"'Lots of other stuff' isn't really a clear indication, Erik." Charles said with a gentle laugh. "What do you feel like eating?"

"Something that tastes good." Erik sighed. "That's a lot to ask for from me."

"You live alone?" Charles enquired.

"Yeah."

"And... can't you cook very well?"

There were a few moments of dead silence.

"... no, not really." He sounded sheepish, a startling contrast to his first impression of Erik back at the club. "I'm more inclined to... mmm." 

"More inclined to what?" Charles pressed, Erik's sudden halt piquing his interest.

More silence before Erik answered.

"I'm more inclined to baking." 

Peals of laughter tore from Charles as Erik's words sunk in. That was a sight to see, the tall, dangerous and darkly dominating man that he met the night before doing something as domestic as baking. He could almost see it right in front of him; a pink apron hanging from his body, hands and face dusted with a thin coating of flour with some in his hair too. 

"Baking?" Charles repeated in between his fits of laughter.

"Yes," he could almost hear the exasperated eye roll through the phone. "Mama and I used to bake all the time when I was younger. She never taught me how to cook things."

"I could," Charles blurted, still recovering his breath. It was a moment before he realised what he said and he immediately felt heat flush to his cheeks. "I mean. If you want me to. It's no big deal."

In the silent moments that followed, Charles frantically began wondering if he'd said the wrong thing. His mind began to spew insults at his mouth and he cringed visibly. But then he heard Erik's response.

"Of course, Charles." His voice was more gentle than he'd ever heard it before. "I'd love that."

While Charles's frazzled brain thought of his answer, Erik slipped in a cheeky remark. "And while you're with me, I'll make you regret laughing at my expense."

"How do you propose you'll do that, my friend?" Charles gave another snicker, but this time shielded it so it'd be inaudible.

"Well, a number of ways seem rather appealing to me," suddenly Erik's tone morphed from cheeky to low and dark, and Charles's smile fell as his eyes widened with shock at the thought of what he could've meant. "But I'll settle for baking you something."

"That's awfully sweet of you," Charles said slowly after careful consideration, "but what if I want to explore the other ways?"

There was more silence as Erik's words went unspoken.

"Well." He finally said, his voice low. "We could do that, too."

"I look forward to it," Charles dared to say, a somewhat bold lilt in his voice.

"Likewise." Erik responded.

That night, Charles fell asleep with his mind swimming with all of the possibilities of what Erik would do to him. And how willingly he'd let him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! please leave a review, I love hearing your thoughts on the story.
> 
> more smut next chapter, so stay tuned!


	5. Chapter 5

_a few days later_

After walking Raven to Irene's house on that fine Wednesday evening, Charles figured he'd swing by work early. A soft smile spread across his face as he opened his phone to text Emma to let her know he'd be coming in early and instead saw Erik's reply to his previous message.

He unlocked his phone, a swell of happiness blossoming in his chest. Merely talking to Erik made him happy, even if it was about the simplest, most dull things in the whole world. They'd only seen each other twice since they went out for lunch, and it was safe to say both encounters weren't as tame. Yet it still felt like they'd known each other for years.

It was a strange sort of friendship; not exactly platonic, but not romantic either. The relationship he had with Erik was a perfect balance of the two, and it was oddly invigorating. The thought of speaking with him again was something that made Charles excited to get out of bed each morning, let alone the thought of seeing him. Hence, he simply welcomed the bright smile that came to his face as he tapped in a text to Erik.

_6:21pm: I'm coming to work early. I'll be waiting for you whenever you decide to come._

Almost as soon as it delivered, the read receipt appeared below his message and Erik answered promptly.

_**6:21pm: How much would it cost for me to have you to myself for the night?** _

Charles was taken aback, his jaw slackening at Erik's unabashed temerity. He didn't dare close his eyes, or his mind may concoct images of what he suspected that would entail.

_6:22pm: I'd like to charge you nothing at all but unfortunately, I need to pay rent soon so that's something I can't afford to do. Literally. And I don't think Emma would be pleased with that, given I have 2 other clients tonight. I'd get slaughtered if I cancelled._

_**6:22pm: Aren't you meant to be the one conducting your own business?** _

_**6:22pm: Otherwise, its illegal.** _

_6:23pm: Yes, well... That's true. Look, I just don't think it's a wise idea._

_6:23pm: But I'm still definitely open to seeing you first._

_**6:24pm: You better be. See you soon, Charles.** _

His cheeks flushed with merely the thought of having to serve only Erik for the night. Oh, the possibilities... He was almost scared to imagine it. Instead, he shook the thoughts out of his head and sent a text Emma's way.

_6:24pm: Hey, I'm coming in early today. Raven's out tonight._

A few moments later, a reply came through.

_**6:25pm: Alright, see you soon.** _

He locked his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. His heart ached with dread; he didn't want to spend the night with more women, but he knew Erik would make him feel better. He always did.

Ten minutes later, he found himself in the red light district and without making eye contact with any of the pedestrians, he sidled into the Hellfire Club. The club officially opened at 7, but the sex workers were free to use it as they pleased.

"Evening," he called out, his eyes glued to the grey carpet of the reception area. He didn't need to look up to know Emma was there; she practically lived in the club. When it wasn't stuffed to the brim with sweaty men and women who stunk of liquor and when the spilled alcohol and unidentifiable bodily fluids had been cleaned out of the carpets, it was rather snug.

"Hiya, sugar." Her silky voice came floating in from the main area where she was no doubt preparing for the night ahead. "You'd better go to the back room and get ready. If I'm not mistaken, you've got a few visitors tonight."

"Yes," Charles hummed without really paying attention to her words. He was too preoccupied with the thought that he'd be seeing Erik soon. He made his way through the club, offering a smile to Emma, who had been cleaning the counter top, as he passed.

The back room wasn't kept as clean as the rest of the establishment. It wasn't in utter mayhem, but it wasn't exactly immaculate either. He dropped his wallet and phone into his locker before somewhat reluctantly stripping out of his sweater. He took a seat in front of the mirror, staring absentmindedly down at the box of makeup sitting on the table. He tried not to use its contents but he knew Emma preferred if he did. It was when he was blankly studying the label of what seemed to be some sort of strange black liquid when he heard the distant hum of voices in the reception. _Erik's here._ A smile spread over his lips before he pushed the chair back and hurried out into the main area.

As he approached the reception, it registered in the back of his mind that he was only hearing female voices. The observation didn't properly dawn on him though as he continued with a light heart towards them. Yet when he stepped into the room and someone who wasn't Erik turned to face him, his smile dropped.

"Oh. Amy." He mused, slowly forcing a fake smile onto his face. "I wasn't aware you'd be coming in this early."

"Well, Emma sent me a text telling me you'd be in early. So I figured I'd come as well," her mismatched eyes glittered in the dim lighting.

"Well, actually," Charles felt a rush of panic. He was never good at saying no to people, and it made him worried that they'd lash out at him. Too many run-ins with his stepfather. "I've, um..."

"What?" Her eyebrows furrowed as she took a step closer, past Emma and towards him. "You aren't serving anyone else first, are you?"

There was a certain element of indignation in her odd eyes that made him uneasy. He'd made the mistake back in college to flirt too much with her, and when she learned of his new profession she was quick to come and hire him. Now, here she was, speaking to him like he was an object. An object she had a right to, like it was some heinous offense if he were to decide what he'd do with his own body.

He couldn't figure out what to say for the life of him. He didn't know what would simultaneously placate her and free himself. Emma wasn't making any effort to be of any assistance either, and Amy grew even more irked; he could tell by just looking at her.

It was at that moment that he heard the door open, and his heart leapt into his throat. His gaze snapped to lock on the newcomer, and he immediately felt the pent up tension in his body ease and a soft smile come to his face as his eyes locked with the grey of Erik's own striking eyes.

Those grey eyes narrowed as they examined the situation at hand, and Charles watched powerlessly as Erik put the pieces together. Charles's feet were concreted to the floor as Erik approached almost angrily, his fists clenched at his sides and his narrowed eyes burning holes through Charles's eyeballs. Suddenly Erik's hand was on the small of his back, pulling him closer and within a fleeting moment their lips were locked together in what Charles knew was Erik's way of showing them that he was first, and always would be. Charles felt himself melt into his embrace, returning the kiss with reckless abandon.

It felt like years until they parted, and Charles suddenly knew what to say. "I'm sorry Amy, but I have another client booked in first."

"Hang on, but Emma said-"

"Emma assumed. I control my own services, darling," with an almost contradictory smile, he let Erik take him by the hand and pull him into the hallway, leaving the two women stunned and staring after them.

As soon as they were safely inside a room, Charles turned and practically flung himself into Erik's arms. "Thank you," he murmured into the fabric of the black turtleneck that the taller man was wearing.=

"What for?" Erik asked, not refusing the hug but not exactly reciprocating either.

"For saving me back there. If you hadn't come in, I don't think I would've had the strength to stand up to her if you weren't there." Charles answered, relaxing into Erik's body.

"This is a rough business, Charles. You need to know how to stand up for yourself, or..." Erik struggled for the right words, yet Charles knew what he was going to say simply from his tone. "...you might get hurt."

"I know, I'm just. Well. I'm not very good at standing up to people." Charles confessed, releasing Erik and looking up at his face. "You are, though."

"How do you know that?" He inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Its just the sort of person you are. I can see it." When Charles felt his lips stretch into a grin, Erik gave him a soft smile.

"Listen," Erik said somewhat uncomfortably. "We don't have to do anything tonight if you don't want to, since you've got quite a few other clients. I'm happy to-"

"No, darling, don't say that." Charles interrupted. "Come on, I've been waiting since Monday to see you again." He took Erik's hands and pulled him towards the bed.

"A grand two days. How did you survive?" The tone of his voice was testament to his sarcasm as he gave a subtle roll of his grey eyes. Charles chuckled softly.

"How did you?" He sat on the bed and looped his arms around Erik's neck, pulling his lips down to meet with his own. Erik knelt down, bringing himself to Charles's level and planting his hands on his waist. It wasn't long before Erik inched forward, slowly pushing Charles back onto the mattress and pinning him down onto the soft blankets.

"Barely," he murmured into Charles's lips. His voice was husky with such fervent desire that it sent a jolt down Charles's spine.

"Were you anxious to see me again?" Charles whispered, pulling away momentarily before Erik captured his lips again. Charles felt his hand trail up his chest and back down, toying with the hem of his shirt. It wasn't long before Erik pulled it off completely, their lips parting as he did so.

"Like you wouldn't believe." Charles heard no lie in Erik's voice, which made him all the more flustered. A hot shiver ran down Charles's spine as he felt Erik's lips press softly on his neck, his teeth gently pulling at the skin that was still slightly red from their last encounter. A soft sigh escaped his lips as Erik buried his face in Charles's neck.

Charles knew that he was meant to be the one making Erik feel loved, yet it felt like it was the other way around. Charles just felt so safe with Erik like he never had with anyone else. He let Erik take his hands and pin them above his head with one of his own hands, willingly giving up any shred of power he had left. He had no issue in doing so; he knew Erik would take care of him.

And he did just that. Charles was no less pleased than he was last time (or more aptly, absolutely smitten with him but he'd never admit it). Pinned beneath Erik, Charles welcomed the hot flush that finally signalled his climax. Erik finished moments afterwards, planting a lustful kiss on his lips. With that came the worry; it meant their time was over and he had to go face the other clients.

He elected to ignore his worries and let the warm glow of his climax wash over him, somewhat breathlessly wrapping his arms around Erik and snuggling into his muscular chest.

Nothing was said for what felt like an eternity, and Charles wished they could've stayed that way forever. Just the two of them, laying together without the need for any words to be spoken.

"Will you text me in your breaks?"

Erik's whisper into Charles's ear brought him back to reality. He nodded, turning his gaze to Erik. "Of course."

"When do you get off work?" He asked, reluctantly releasing Charles from his grip.

Charles quickly did the math in his head. _If I have two other clients and each time slot is half an hour for them, and I also have to help out at the bar..._ "Between 9 and 10."

"Do you have anywhere to be tomorrow morning?" As Erik stood up, Charles could almost hear the smirk that was no doubt plastered onto his (sinfully kissable) lips. Charles's stomach began to flutter as he realised what Erik may have been asking him.

"No. Since Raven is at her friend's house, I don't have to take her to school in the morning." Charles propped himself up and grabbed the tissues from the bedside table.

"Right then, it's settled." Erik turned back around after tossing the used condom in the bin, leaning over to take a tissue from the box in Charles's hand. "I'll be here to pick you up at 9:30, then you're coming back to my house so we can make dinner."

Despite the elation making Charles's heart do flips in his chest, he rolled his eyes and took a tissue for himself. "You mean, I cook dinner and you pretend to learn."

"No, I'll pay proper attention. I promise." Erik threw the tissue in the bin and began pulling his clothes on. Charles, however, was taking his time. He was reluctant to go out to the other clients, but the sooner he did the sooner he'd be able to spend the night with Erik.

Erik helped him back into his clothes before pulling him into one of the breathtaking kisses that Charles most associated him with. By the time he pulled away, Charles was dazed and staring dumbly into his grey eyes. "See you soon." With as much as a smile and squeeze of his slender shoulders, Erik turned and exited the room. After a few moments of standing there wordlessly and thoughtlessly, Charles stirred to action. He followed Erik out of the room but instead of going to him like he wanted to, he found Amy and while he apologised for his earlier actions and let her drag him into another room, all he could think about was what he'd be doing that night. And who.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, I'm back lmao. sorry for the long wait, I've had a rough few weeks. but I'm here now with your new chapter, albeit a shitty filler.
> 
> friendly reminder that if you want to keep up with my personal life, my twitter is @ElectricScarlet. honestly its just full of fandoms, memes and complaining, its a blast.
> 
> please leave a review!


	6. just a candid author's note.

hi everyone.

this author's note will be posted to every single ongoing fanfic I have, so if you're following any of my other fics you'll see it there too.

I'm just going to have to be honest here, since I can't really keep lying and saying I just "lost my muse" or something.

for a while, I've been struggling with severe mental disorders which as of late have gotten so bad that I can no longer attend school for more than a few days at a time or go out in public without going through hell while I'm there. to be honest, it's getting really hard to create ANYTHING. I can't draw, I can't do my school work, and of course, I can't even write. every time I think I have some sort of muse, I pull up a word document and as soon as I look at it, it's like every word that I could've possibly put on the page has just disappeared from my mind. I can't create, full stop. so I'm sorry. I hope that at some point in the near future I will be have at least some control over my mind and what it does. until then, I hope you all continue to stay with me and hope for my recovery as much as I am.

much love, always.

scarlet.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time 9:30 came around, Charles was eager to get the hell out of the club and into Erik’s apartment. After saying a quick goodbye to Emma and Angel, he slipped outside the club. Erik hadn’t arrived yet, but he had no problem with waiting. It felt good to be out in the fresh air rather than cramped inside a club filled with sweaty, intoxicated men and women.

Only a minute later, Erik’s black sedan pulled up into the parking bay. He rolled down the window and turned his head to look at Charles.

“Hey. Everything go alright?” He asked as Charles approached the car.

“As alright as ever.” Although the night air was nice, he had to admit it was bloody freezing in a tank top and jeans. He wished that his clients liked men in suits or at least something vaguely modest, but the prostitute-hiring demographic didn’t seem like the sort of people to appreciate a good Armani. Most of them, at least.

“What are you waiting for, hop in.” Erik urged. Charles immediately did so, going around the other side of the car and promptly getting in. He closed the car door before putting on his seatbelt. When Erik didn’t move the car, Charles glanced at him questioningly. When he looked at Erik, he found the man’s grey eyes fixated on him. It sent an unexpected shiver down his spine to see Erik looking at him like that.

“What is it?” He asked, his voice feeling shrunken as he spoke.

“Nothing,” Erik murmured. “I’m just glad I can spend tonight with you, that’s all.”

He wished he wasn’t so prone to blushing.

“Yeah,” he answered, shifting in his seat as he tried to hide his face. “Me too.” He wanted to keep at least some pride; it definitely wouldn’t help if Erik knew how flustered he made Charles without even trying to.

Charles heard a soft, almost inaudible chuckle from Erik as he averted his gaze, turned on the radio and revved the car before pressing hard on the accelerator. The car sped down the road, and the wind flooding through the open window buffeted his face and ruffled his hair. It wasn’t often that he could cruise down the back streets at night with the windows down and Frank Sinatra blaring from the speakers in the company of someone he was quite fond of. He felt free.

“You like Frank Sinatra?” Charles asked over the sound of the wind.

“Yeah. Do you?”

“I love him.” Charles confessed, a smile coming to his face. “When I was younger, my mother had an old gramophone with only a few records. All of them were Sinatra songs. I used to listen to them for hours on end, and I never got sick of hearing the songs over and over.”

“A gramophone? In the late 20th century?” Erik asked quizzically, yet he was smiling.

“My family is quite traditional, and they treasure antiquities. This particular gramophone was one of the first ones ever made, and my family were very rich up until Kurt came along. So back in 1932, my grandfather bought it straight from the factory. I think Kurt has it now.”

“Well,” Erik said. “Don’t you want it back?”

“Of course I do.” Charles sighed. If he could’ve chosen anything from his old home to keep forever, it would’ve been that gramophone. Sadly, he knew that somewhere, in the mansion passed down his family for generations that now sat in Kurt Marko’s filthy grasp, that precious gramophone was merely collecting dust and being ignored. Maybe he’d already figured out how much it was worth and sold it; that was even worse than the former. “I can’t do very much about it.”

“Perhaps I can.” Erik said slowly, coming to a halt at the traffic lights and turning down the radio. He turned to Charles. “Perhaps I already have.”

“Erik. What do you mean by that?” A pang of suspicion hit Charles in the chest, his shoulders tensing up as he locked eyes with Erik.

“Being a high-ranking police officer,” Erik said, “I have privileges. And connections. Say, if someone got into contact with the FBI and tipped them off about a certain someone supposedly performing illegal repossession of and in a certain mansion, and the FBI were now investigating, what would you do?”

“I… I really don’t know. Erik, did you…” When Erik simply stared, Charles’s jaw dropped further. “You did.”

“Happy Hanukkah?”

“Are you Jewish?”

“Yes. Are you mad at me?”

“Why in the world would I- No, Erik, I could never be mad at you for that. What you’ve done is incredible, and I could never thank you enough.”

“I can think of some ways.” Erik narrowed his eyes with a soft smirk, earning a chuckle from Charles.

“Eyes on the traffic lights, darling.”

Erik’s grey eyes snapped to the road, and he frantically pushed the car into gear and continued driving. Charles gave a soft giggle (he could barely believe himself, a _giggle?_ ) and watched his face as he drove. He had a very nice face. The light from the street lamps morphed and shifted on his skin as he drove past them. The shadows moved almost hypnotically, and he found himself simply staring. He didn’t realise he hadn’t said a word for about three minutes until the song changed. Strangers in the Night was the one playing now; the one before it had been My Way.

He hummed along with the lyrics, turning his gaze to the passing cityscape. They were leaving the most crowded part of the city now, and he was surprised with how fast they had left the central city. The roads were quite empty on this moonlit Wednesday night, evidently.

Within a few minutes, they were pulling up to the apartment complex that Charles suspected Erik lived in. The garage was mostly empty, so Charles figured there weren’t many people living there. It was a rather small complex, after all; he would’ve guessed around 5 apartments were in the building. “Here we are.” Erik said, shutting off the engine and pulling out the keys. Strangers in the Night stopped playing, but the following lyrics played loud and clear in his head anyway.

_Lovers at first sight, in love forever.  
It turned out so right for strangers in the night._

-

“So,” Charles said as Erik shut the door behind them. “No roommates?”

“Not anymore.” Erik said as he locked the door. Charles watched his hands as they turned the lock, puzzled. Was he so paranoid that he locked the door every time he was at home? “They found other places.”

“Ah.” Charles glanced around the apartment. It was cozy, but minimalistic. It suited Erik. “Am I still teaching you how to cook?” He teased, a grin coming to his face.

“You could, if you want to.” Erik replied, flicking on the television. Some show that Charles wasn’t familiar with was playing. “I’m not fussed.”

“Okay.” Charles stood near the counter awkwardly as Erik entered the kitchen and turned the kettle on. He wasn’t sure what to do; his mother always raised him to never do anything in someone else’s house until it had been offered. And even then, be reluctant. He hated that it was so deeply ingrained in his mind.

“What are you standing around for? Make yourself at home,” Erik noticed his unease and gestured to the barstools at the counter. With a hasty nod, Charles sat down and watched as Erik pulled out two mugs. “Tea? Coffee?”

“Tea, please.”

“Milk and sugar?”

“Yes, please. Just one sugar, thank you.”

“You have impeccable manners.”

“Yeah. It’s a habit.”

“It’s not a bad habit.”

“It can be.”

Throughout the whole exchange, Erik’s eyes hadn’t left Charles’s. He let out a soft chuckle. “When is your politeness ever a disadvantage?”

“I’m… not really good with standing up to people because of it.” Charles said with a sigh. “Which you have seen firsthand.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here. Big bad policeman and all.”

“But what if I want to stand up to a policeman?” He crossed his arms, leaning on the bench.

“Then you’d better hope it’s not me.” Erik picked up the kettle, pouring boiling water into the two mugs.

“ _I’d_ better hope?” Charles’s stomach fluttered.

“Yes.” Erik’s tone flattened, his gaze fixed directly on what he was doing.

“Why would that be?” He said somewhat cautiously. Erik’s sudden change of tone didn’t escape him.

“Call me melodramatic,” Erik said, “but I can be dangerous, Charles.”

“Dangerous… as in violent?” He didn’t know why he kept talking.

“Quite.” Erik placed the kettle back on its holder.

“Violence is a criminal offense, sir police officer.” Charles reminded him.

“Just because I work for the government, doesn’t mean I want to conform to their laws.” Erik’s gaze finally met Charles’s, and it was burning. Another shiver went down his spine.

“But… don’t you arrest people who break the law?” Charles probed, his brow furrowing.

“I do. Remember, Charles, I work in major crimes. I deal with all the shit they show you on TV, all the murder and mystery.” Erik’s voice was low and almost menacing. “I don’t deal with people like me.”

“People like you?”

“The only difference between myself and the people I deal with,” he said slowly, “is that I can control myself.”

 _This got dark very quickly._ Charles’s head was spinning a little bit. “Is… is there something you want to talk about, Erik? This is worrying.”

He chuckled, giving a small shake of his head. “No. I’m fine. I don’t want to hide who I am from you. I do it with everyone else.”

“So why not me?”

“I don’t think you want to know the answer to that, Charles.”

“Or are you just not willing to tell it?”

“A bit of both.”

“Well, when you’re ready, I will be too.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

It took a few moments of silence before Erik finished preparing the tea for Charles and coffee for himself. Erik, and the effect his every move was having, was becoming even more of an enigma with each day that passed. It was… intoxicating. As he took the mug of tea in his hands, softly thanking Erik as he did so, he found himself wishing their situation could be different. He wished they had met under better circumstances, where Charles had a proper job and didn’t have to reduce himself to a dick with legs and where Erik didn’t have to expose himself to such terrible crimes every day. Where they could have a proper chance at love and life.

But as he met Erik’s fierce grey gaze, finding himself feeling naked under his eye, he realised that maybe it wasn’t all bad. Maybe things happened this way for a reason.

He just hoped that the reason, and its implications, were good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, its only been like a year! big yikes haha  
> well I have returned with another chapter. I don't know how long it'll take for me to upload the next one, or even write it. unfortunately, I feel like updates to this fic and my other cherik one will be quite sporadic. I'm sorry, I really wish I had the muse but I guess I've just lost most of it.
> 
> if you're still here, thank you for sticking around. I have so much love for my readers, even more so for ones that stay around after big breaks like this <3 you guys are truly awesome.


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